


Cuddle Bug

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Excessive Cuddling, F/M, ambiguous ace character, lighthearted jaunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:51:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: Abbie and Ichabod admit their feelings.  But There is one aspect of Ichabod’s personality that has Abbie perplexed.





	Cuddle Bug

Their relationship had by no means been rushed. Hell, it had taken them nearly four years to admit their feelings. And even then it wasn't anything grandiose. 

They had been having lunchtime pizza at the Archives. He was in the middle of shoving an entire slice of All The Meats plus black olives into his mouth. Abbie had caught herself smiling at him, shook her head, and laughed, “I love you.” Because it felt right. It felt natural.

He had looked at her, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, eyes wide as he lowered his pizza slice to his plate. Ichabod chewed slowly then swallowed hard. He then took her hand in both of his.

Abbie's heart had leapt into her throat when he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “As I, you, Lieutenant,” he had said with a tenderness that made her almost start crying.

It had been left at that. But Abbie soon found herself on the receiving end of an actual, legit, _romancing_. Little romantic notes she would always find in her purse around lunch, wishing her a productive and safe day. Romantic dinners waiting when she got home--even more extravagant than the ones he made after her stay in the catacombs--with rose petals scattered on the table and candlelight. If she called cleanup after dinner, he would have her a warm bath waiting afterward.

Instead of jumping straight into a physical relationship, they took their time. Abbie liked how he would spend a minimum of half an hour holding her hand, stroking her wrist and fingers, studying and memorizing every crinkle and mole he could find. He was especially curious about a small scar on the top of her wrist--she had punched through a window in her younger days and got cut by a shard of glass.

She also discovered, Ichabod loved to cuddle. He was a damn good cuddler. If ever there was someone she could deem a professional cuddler, it would be Ichabod Crane.

He cuddled with her on the sofa to watch Netflix or Hulu. He would even cuddle with her in her bed at night and she would wake up to early morning, half naked cuddling with his breath on the back of her neck. Sometimes they would both wake up at the same time and they would lay there, talking quietly and taking a moment in all the madness of the Apocalypse to laugh over something atrocious or ridiculous. 

Almost always his fingers would flutter over her brows, lips, cheeks as though he were trying to memorize her face as he has done her hands.

_It had taken her taking an entire three day weekend, finding out Ichabod’s plans for them, and entwining her plan for seduction to get their relationship consummated--and good Lord, by that Monday she was walking bow legged and did so for a few days._

_Ichabod had flushed a soft pink and stammered for words when she had greeted him, wearing a slinky negligée, after he had finished cleaning up the dinner dishes._

_“I had not realized you wished to… what I mean is…” Ichabod fidgeted restlessly. “In my day, if a pair were to… it meant they were wed.”_

_“I know… no sex before marriage and all that,” Abbie said with a gentle smile. “It's all right if you want to wait… we don't have to...”_

_“No! I _want to_ ,” he blurted, his face turning even more red. “In my day, all it took was for a gentleman to tell his lover that he intended their night of passion to solidify their bond as man and wife. The act itself meant they were henceforth wed. We were stout practitioners of what you call… common law marriages… And I do not want you to feel pressured into thinking of us as something more than you are ready for. Because rest assured, Abbie, I would consider you to be my wife afterwards.”_

_Abbie looked down at their joined hands when he finished his rambling. She threaded her fingers between his and realized she was smiling at the thought of Ichabod presenting her as his wife to all his Historical Society friends. His chin tilting up and his chest puffing out with pride… “I'm okay with you thinking of us as married.”_

But imagine her surprise when, afterward, he still didn't prioritize a physical relationship. She couldn't help but ask him why. It wasn’t that she thought it was weird. It just… wasn’t something she was used to. He obviously found her physically attractive and he obviously received satisfaction from the act.

_It had never really been anything he pursued. In fact he had never truly felt such urges until he met and bonded with her._

_He admitted that even with Katrina it was the furthest thing from his thoughts unless she made the suggestion and it had only ever made him feeling awkward and confused afterward._

Abbie just let him see no connection between carnal urges that had left him confused with his late wife and the fact she was a witch… and a dishonest one at that. Instead she just let him pull her into his arms and let him indulge in his version of love and intimacy. 

On warmer nights, they would cuddle together in her bed, naked, and she tucked her cold feet between his shins… much to his relief because sometimes the A/C took time to start working at night.

On cold nights they would sit in the living room, wrapped in blankets. Ichabod's back against the sofa, Abbie tucked between his legs, and him wrapped all around her as they watched Christmas classics and musicals. Abbie snuggled back against him, burrowing into his embrace. He chuckled softly and tightened his hold, nuzzling his nose against her hair.

He took any and every excuse to touch her; stroking her hand, brushing his hand over the gap between her shorts and top on her night clothes, kissing her temple, kissing her neck, then burying his face against the curve of her shoulder to inhale and sigh with contentment.

“I love you,” he whispered. “And thank you for being understanding of my… unique perimeters.”

Abbie reached back and patted his cheek. “It's my pleasure,” she said softly. “Besides… it’s nice having a partner that doesn't want sex constantly. And you're lovable in your own way.” She tilted her head back and nuzzled his chin, because he loved receiving cuddles just as much as he loved giving them. He laughed softly and gave her a little, affectionate squeeze.

“Lovable enough to, perhaps, visit the judge and make our marriage official in the eyes of modern laws?” Ichabod asked.

Abbie felt her face warm. “Yeah. I'd like that. Just say when.”

“Tomorrow,” he whispered.

She stretched back and entwined her fingers behind his neck. “Okay. That works for me.”

He kissed her earlobe then slightly nibbled at it. “First thing in the morrow. So that we may spend the entirety of the day abed doing progressively naughty things to each other. And then perhaps we can incite Miss Jenny and the others over for a Team Witness family dinner to announce our nuptials.”

“I like that idea even more,” Abbie chuckled then dropped her hands to her lap. “Let's get our movie night mess cleaned up and get to bed so we can get all that accomplished.”

Abbie squealed happily when instead Ichabod cradled her in his arms and, leaving behind their mess, swept her away to bed.


End file.
